


My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul (Part 2)

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Blackwatch Era, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Deadlock Gang, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 12:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20436329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jesse Mccree, high on the horse. So sure he has it all figured out, a teenage thug in an arms dealing gang, everything in the palm of his hand.But Gabriel Reyes will make sure he never thinks that again. He's a Blackwatch agent by force, but more importantly, he belongs tohim.





	My heart's an artifice, a decoy soul (Part 2)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally back. Again I reiterate: this is not a happy story. Read the tags and read and your own risk. This is exactly what it you think it is. It will be uploaded in parts so that I can remain anonymous throughout its writing. Comments are appreciated regardless.
> 
> Part 1: [x](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587908)

Ana Amari was angrier than Gabriel Reyes had ever seen her.

She was staring out the window of his ICU room shaking her head with tense, sharp movement while his heart monitor beeped rapidly.

"I cannot believe this, Gabriel. You are one of the best members of this organization. You've been here how many years now? After all this time you should have known better."

"I've done the same thing before and things have turned out-"

"I don't  _ care  _ what you've done before! This absolutely outclasses anything you've ever done, any mistake you've ever made! You murdered one hundred sixty people!"

"What does it matter!? They were all sewer scum in a black market arms dealing gang! They deserved to die."

"That's not our choice to make, Gabe! The governments of countless countries are already skeptical about us and our work. They think we think we're above the law, that we're allowed to play God, and if they find out what you've done, it's only going to prove them right!"

"You're acting like I personally wrung the life out of each one that died! I had a whole squad with me that could have chosen to not do what I said at any time; why are you only mad at  _ me _ !?"

"I am unimaginably upset with  _ all _ of you, but you especially because you were the leader! You lead them into combat knowingly going against my command! You can't try to shirk the whole blame onto them for not insubordinating against the commander they knew  _ I  _ instructed on what to do!"

"I'm not trying to shirk the blame on them, I'm just saying that they went along with it perfectly fine. Don't make it seem like they only did what I said because they didn't want to disobey you by disobeying me. I made it clear to them that the instructions I gave weren't from you and they did it anyway. For God's sake, Morrison and I are the same rank, he wouldn't hesitate to disobey if he wanted to."

"What is your point, Gabriel?"

"My point is that you're making it out like I'm the immoral one who beguiled innocent people into killing when they  _ chose _ to follow my orders. They knew what they were doing. They're not all perfect angels on the other side of me, the devil."

Ana opened her mouth, closed it, and walked out of the room.

* * *

You know, Gabriel, you really shouldn't be up and about in your condition," Angela piped up when he made an appearance at breakfast on a pair of crutches he had forced an interning nurse to get him.

He grumbled back a wordless response through a mouthful of bagel. 

After swallowing, he looked at her with fiery eyes. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?"

"You know who. I'm sure Ana has given you all the details."

Angela sighed. "He's in one of the holding cells."

"Have you given him any medical attention?"

"Just enough to keep him from bleeding out."

"Good. Keep him in there. Don't feed him."

"I took an oath when I became a doctor, you know. I can't just keep letting him suffer."

"You saw what that little rat did to me, right? I know you're the one who performed the surgery. If you can't let him suffer at least a little after you had to dig his ancient-ass bullet out of my lung, then your priorities are in the wrong place."

Angela looked at the floor. "Fine. But, please, go rest before you visit him. You'll be fine in a couple days if you just let the nanobots do their work."

"Don't worry, I'm going to be in peak shape before I let him see my face again."

Angela took a cinnamon sugar bagel from the platter on the table and walked away.

* * *

It was four days before Gabriel was back to himself. He could walk on his right leg again without any pain, he could move his upper body in all the ways he could before and he could take deep breaths without stabbing pain in his chest. 

He wasn't a perfect image of how he was before, though; there was a circular mark left on the skin of his calf that Angela said would fade in a few years time. Much worse than that was the scar on his clavicle. It was bright pink and gnarled up from where the shattered pieces of his collarbone had tried to eject themselves from his body. The mark and the area around it had yet to grow any hair back- both Moira and Angela had contended that it likely never would. 

The thought filled Gabriel with rage; some young buck gang member who wasn't even half his age had wounded him in a way that would never fully heal. He would spend the rest of his life with an ugly scar that would commemorate his failure. 

Despite sparing his life at Deadlock headquarters, Gabe had thought about just killing Jesse in a particularly painful way to get his revenge over with. But now that he knew exactly what he'd done to him, Gabe knew for certain death was much too merciful for the boy.

On the morning of the fifth day since his return, Gabriel rose early before anyone else had awoken. He stopped by his quarters for the first time since he'd left and collected his usual clothes: black uniform pants, utility belt, utility boots, and a tight-fitting turtleneck. 

For him, it was petty, worrying about appearances, but he wanted to look as put-together and intimidating as possible when he showed his face to Jesse again. The boy was immature, cocky, low-brow, and a loser. Too small of a fish to even call a shark. Gabriel had dealt with his type before in his youth, and he knew that superficial things like what he was wearing when he went into the cell would become points of attack for Jesse. 

After all, that's how people like him operated. Point out the unimportant and bite at it until you agitate your enemy enough that they lower to your level, then go in for the kill. It was a classic technique of overconfident youths like him. When faced with a much bigger, much more experienced opponent, you have to get them to fight on your terms or else you'll lose. It was something Gabriel had done himself before he had become strong. And if he had anything to say about it, he'd make sure Jesse didn't get a chance to become strong.

He took the stairs rather than the elevator down to the lowest floor where the holding cells were. It was deep underground and highly surveillanced to keep prisoners from being able to escape. He flashed his ID card to the scanner outside the door in the stairwell, and the machinery took a few seconds to authorize his credential permissions in the database before showing a green light and automatically opening the mechanical door.

The floor was all one room with nearly two dozen cells. The lateral walls of each cell were solid steel to keep prisoners from being able to speak to one another easily, while the front of each cell was classical prison architecture in the form of latticed iron bars. Of all the technological advancements Overwatch had made, they hadn't innovated a better option. The only difference between the Gibraltar holding cells and a 1900s prison was that the cell doors were reinforced with the same computer verification as the door to the floor. They'd only open with a commander or higher's keycard.

Lucky for Reyes, there was only one prisoner on the floor. No others to listen in to what he was going to do.

As he approached the first cell, he heard loud, gasping snores from down the row of cubicles. He rolled his eyes. In a way, it was actually convenient that Jesse was asleep; this way, he could wake him abruptly to begin the session without a quip from him.

Jesse was fast asleep, slumped against the rear wall of the third cell with pulse-powered cuffs holding his arms to the wall. (They had made  _ some _ innovations to prison keeping.) Gabriel pressed his keycard to the reader in the cell door, and once he gained access, he carefully shut the door behind himself. 

He glanced up at the cameras in both rear corners of the cell. He couldn't risk deactivating them yet; the cameras sent signals to the security headquarters whenever they were turned off. He needed to wait until Ana was less enraged with him and he had more leeway. Deactivating cameras was hardly a noteworthy occurrence, but when Ana Amari was angry, anything out of the ordinary was fuel to the flame.

Security in holding cells wasn't even an important venture. Overwatch had much bigger fish to fry; chances were, the security team wouldn't bother reviewing holding cell footage at all because it had been months since they'd had prisoners. but Gabriel couldn't test fate- the things he wanted to do were sick, even for him. For now, normal torture. But later… oh, he had great things in store for Jesse McCree.

Gabe withdrew the bottle of water from his belt, very glad that he happened to be thirsty when he'd woken up. He stepped to Jesse's sleeping form, undid the lid, and upended the bottle's contents onto Jesse's chest and face.

He awoke with a start, coughing and sputtering, and flailed back and forth in a futile effort to dry his face with his bound hands. Blinking furiously, he finally managed to glare through the water trickling down his eyelids, face screwing up when he saw Gabriel.

"Well, lookie who it is," Jesse drawled smugly, smirking infuriatingly. "Finally decided to pay me a visit, eh?"

Gabe's fists clenched hard enough to crack the lid of the bottle in his hands. Even with everything against him, bound and chained and soaking wet in a prison cell, his obnoxious confidence stayed front and center. He smiled to himself; he'd beat that out of him soon enough.

"That's one way to put it."

"It's been a while, I was startin' to think ya'd forgotten about me. Or maybe that you died from blood loss in the desert." A saccharine smile wormed its way onto his lips as he spoke, eyebrows poised and challenging.

Gabriel laughed harshly. "Oh, kid, you're too much. It would take a lot more than some greenhorn teenage gang rat to take  _ me _ down."

"I dunno, you seemed t' be in pretty bad shape there after I nearly took yer head from yer shoulders."

"Awful high praise of yourself for someone who missed."

"By a few inches. A chest shot is just a step less valuable than a head when you're hunting deer."

"Unlucky for you, I'm not some wild game for you to hunt."

Jesse sucked air in through his teeth doubtfully. "I ain't so sure; you're seeming awful like a doe right now. Fragile, scarce, likes to hide."

Gabriel took a half step forward, capping the bottle in his hands as adrenaline surged through him. "When exactly have I been hiding?"

"The past week you've had me tied up down here without showing yer ugly mug once. Like a wounded little doe, runnin' and hidin' behind the strong bucks from the wolf that bit you."

Gabriel strode forward, standing over Jesse. "And I suppose that means you fancy yourself a wolf, huh?"

"I _ am _ a wolf, a lone killer that-"

Gabe cut Jesse's words off with a swift, powerful kick to his groin, making his entire body cave in an effort to curl into itself. His face contorted in a grimace, shocked eyes looking wildly up at Gabriel, who then bent down to face level.

"You look surprised," he spat mockingly into his face. "What did you think, that I would be too afraid to hit you for running your mouth? We have you chained up in a cell, and you think you have the upper hand somehow? It's almost pathetic how out of touch with reality you are."

"The fact that ya kept me at all.." he paused to gasp for breath, "means I'm worth somethin' to ya. You can only do… so much. I ain't afraid of you, doe."

Gabe lifted his fight foot and firmly stomped it down on Jesse's bandaged thigh, earning an agonized scream.

"Are you afraid of me now?" he paused and lifted his foot to punt Jesse in the ribs. "Still think you're something special?" He lifted his left foot off the ground, momentarily placing his entire body weight on the foot standing on Jesse's wounded leg before stomping down on his balls with all the force he could.

Jesse wheezed and whimpered in agony, desperate sobs beginning to wrack his form. Gabriel stepped off his leg, reaching down and grabbing him by the hair to slam his skull into the wall behind him. 

"Don't fool yourself. You're not valuable; you're not not an asset. I kept you for one reason- to make you pay for trying to fuck with me. And this is only the beginning, just you fucking  _ wait _ . Think about that while you nurse your burst balls, Jesse," he finished, spitting his name as if it was a curse before actually spitting saliva into his tangled hair. 

Gabriel opened the keycard door and slammed it behind himself, pleased with the rush of adrenaline pounding in his blood. Jesse's sobs echoed as he strode back into the stairwell and locked the room back up.

He took a moment to pause on the stairs, relishing the look of pain and terror he'd elicited from the shit-eating cowboy. 

This was going to be fun.


End file.
